


In Flagrante Delecto

by Adderlygirl



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-16
Updated: 1999-04-16
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adderlygirl/pseuds/Adderlygirl
Summary: Ray finds Meg in flagrante...





	In Flagrante Delecto

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my stories from long ago and far away. . . .
> 
> Idea taken from posts by Carri Ann Copas and Laura Higgins.
> 
> Rated PG-13 for adult situation.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply (Alliance owns 'em. I just play with 'em. Don't sue me, please.).

Ray Vecchio stared at the two bodies on the floor of Benny's office, naked disbelief etched on his face.  Perhaps _naked_ wasn't the best choice of adjective considering he'd followed a trail of discarded red serge turnics, Sam Browne belts, and other Mountie parphernalia into the office.  Vecchio had mercifully been spared a thorough view of the two people rolling around the floor.

Actually, all he could see were two bare feet and two booted feet--neither a matching pair--and trouser-clad legs.  Ray mentally thanked God for small miracles, but he winced when a moan escaped one of the wrestlingMounties. _Benny finally snapped_ , he thought with a sigh. Ray knew

his friend had developed a thing for the woman moaning, but he couldn't believe Fraser would so easily forget protocols on fraternization—not to mention the common sense and common courtesy involved in actually closing a door—to take a roll on the floor with the Dragon Lady.

Ray made a polite cough and grinned wickedly when Thatcher's tousled head appeared from the other side of Fraser's painfully neat desk. Her face was flushed, her expression pricelessly horrified.  Yep, he was going to get some mileage out of this. "Inspector." He gave her a gleeful grin.

She stammered, "Vecchio, this isn't what you think."

Ray crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.  "So what _is_ it?"

Thatcher rose to her feet. Her suspenders dangled from the waistband of her trousers, and her white undershirt was untucked. She stepped from behind the desk. Her fingers nervously threaded together and unlaced only to repeat the same movements again and again. She gave a pained, sheepishly shaky smile.  Her awkward gait as she crossed the floor reminded Ray of a Mother Goose rhyme.

"I really don't think there's any need to discuss this . . . incident . . . with Constable Fraser, Vecchio," she said with a wincing smile. Her dark eyes implored him. Ray was confused since it was surely Benny lying on the other side of the desk.

Deciding it must be a Mountie thing or an appeal to honor like Fraser had yammered on about when Ray pressed him about Frannie, Vecchio warily said, "Okay."

Thatcher looked immensely relieved.

It didn't make sense, though, and the detective in him had a lot more questions Ray was certain he should pursue.  Why couldn't he talk about it? Unless . . . . A nasty suspicion crept into his thoughts.

She must have seen the intent on his face, for she tried to block Ray from entering the office fully. He feinted right and quickly went around her to the left. The rigid Mountie lying on the floor behind Fraser's desk looked for all the world like some kid had tipped him during sentry duty. The only human Ray knew who could out-Fraser Fraser lay there on his back at stiff attention staring at the ceiling.

Turning away from Turnbull, Ray stabbed a finger at Thatcher as he passed her. "You owe me." He strode out the door. "Next time close and lock the door. Even better, use your own office."

 

 

 

Back in his own office at the precinct, Ray signed the final report and shoved it in the file folder on his desk. He caught a flash of red from the corner of his eye, and looked up at his best friend. "Hey, man, where were you?"

Fraser came as close to shrugging as he ever did. "The inspector sent me for coffee."

"And that took over an hour?" Ray asked incredulously.

"Well, you see, Ray," Fraser began, adjusting the Stetson where it was tucked under his arm, "Inspector Thatcher is very particular about the coffee we use in the consulate. There is only one purveyor of her preferred blend in the Chicago area, and it's located across town."

"You'd think she'd let you take a consulate car," Ray deadpanned.

"Oh, no, Ray," Fraser replied. "Since I am not on official consulate business, am only running an errand, as it were, I must use public transportation."

"I see," Ray said. And he did.

"The odd thing is," Fraser said, sounding baffled, "that the consulate has gone through an inordinate amount of coffee the past few weeks."

"Ah," Ray said, struggling to keep his expression blandly neutral.

Fraser frowned at him. " _Ah_ , what?"

"Just _ah_ ," Ray answered, rising to his feet.  Ready to go?"

 


End file.
